"Doc, you've gotta help me. My wife just isn't interested in sex anymore. Haven't you got a pill or something I can give her?"

"Look, I can't prescribe ..."

"Doc, we've been friends for years. Have you ever seen me this upset? I am desperate! I can't think; I can't concentrate; my life is going utterly to Hell! You've got to help me."

The doctor opens his desk drawer and removes a small bottle of pills. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't do this. These are experimental, the tests so far indicate that they're VERY powerful. Don't give her more than ONE, understand? JUST one."

"I don't know, doc; she's awfully cold ..."

"One. No more. In her coffee. Okay?"

"Um ... okay."

Our hero expresses gratitude, and departs for home, where his wife has dinner waiting. When dinner is finished, she goes to the kitchen to bring dessert. Our hero, in fumbling haste, pulls the pills from his pocket and drops one into his wife's coffee. He reflects for a moment, hesitates, then drops in a second pill. And then he begins to worry. The doctor did say they were powerful. Then an inspiration strikes: he drops one pill into his own coffee.

His wife returns with the shortcake, and they enjoy their dessert and coffee, our hero with poorly concealed anticipation. Sure enough, a few minutes after they finish, his wife shudders a little, sighs deeply and heavily, and a strange smoky look enters her eyes. In a deep, throaty, near-whisper, in a tone of voice he has never heard her use before, she says, "I ... need ... a man ..."

His eyes glitter and his hands tremble as he replies, "Me ... too ..."

At 8: You take her to bed and tell her a story.At 18: You tell her a story and take her to bed.At 28: You don't need to tell her a story to take her to bed.At 38: She tells you a story and takes you to bed.At 48: She tells you a story to avoid going to bed.At 58: You stay in bed to avoid her story.At 68: If you take her to bed, that'll be a story!At 78: What story? What bed? Who the hell are you?